The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection

by Frost, E J

  “Yes, on Fire Island. I understand you were there with Damon Tiger and Laurel, mmm, sorry, what’s her name?”

  “Radford,” Dovie supplies automatically.

  Gotcha. “Right, Laurel Radford. Rick would really like to reconnect with Laurel. Do you have a number where I could reach her?”

  “Um, I don’t know if I should give her number out. I mean, what’s this all about?”

  “She made a big impression on Rick. He’d like to see her again.”

  “It was a year ago, you know. And Laurel’s taken. Engaged, actually. She and Jiro just got engaged.”

  “That’s great. I’m sure Rick would like to congratulate her. Maybe send the happy couple a gift.”

  There’s another long silence before she finally says, “He feels guilty, doesn’t he? For slapping her? He should. It was a dick move.”

  “He does,” I say, sensing a way in. “He’d really like to make it up to her.”

  “I don’t know why he waited so long, but I guess that would be okay. I’ll have to call her and make sure she’s all right with me giving you her number. Can I call you back? It might be a couple of hours. I have to straighten things out with my boss now I’ve got a phone again.”

  “Sure. How about we set a time? Say by five? If I haven’t heard from you by then, I’ll give you a call.”

  It’s an old interview trick, setting a time for the interviewee to do something they haven’t fully agreed to. It makes them feel obligated to carry through.

  And it works on Dovie Donegan. “Um, okay. That would be okay. Is this the best number for you?”

  “Yes.” I also give her my landline number, just in case. Then I thank her and say goodbye without asking her anything about the party. I can get that from her later if I need to, after she’s given me the means to reach Laurel Radford.

  I fire off an email to Max with Laurel’s full name and another to Rick to let him know I’ve got a solid lead on her. Hopefully, that will cheer him up since he was pretty grumpy this morning. I guess being shot down by Lucy and getting nothing but a hand-job from Justine last night put him in a bad mood. It had Daisy smiling, though. She’s quite the sadist; I wouldn’t want to get on her bad side. Fortunately, she seems committed to having my little girl as her bestie. Or having her for lunch. I’m confident that if I weren’t in the picture, Daisy would have made a move on Emily by now. But, like Javier, Daisy lacks that nurturing quality that Emily needs for real fulfillment. No, if I have a serious rival, it’s Max. And, as Emily’s reminded me, he can’t give my little masochist the pain she needs.

  I need to get a lead on the green-eyed monster. I promised Emily I wouldn’t project the betrayals of my past on her. I know Emily’s loyal to her core, and although I think my display this morning excited her, much more of it will make her doubt whether I trust her. Which I do. With my life.

  And my heart.

  * * *

  Nothing, not even discovering that Dovie Donegan has blocked my number when I call her at seventeen hundred, can ruin my damn fine mood.

  I’m buoyed by an hour’s Facetime with Niall. The man feels more and more like the brother I never had, especially when he offers to take a line of credit through his company to pay my medical bills. After I decline and tell him about Emily selling her condo, he orders me to marry her before I even mention the thought that’s been haunting me for days. A snuggle with Emily that turns into more sex before turning back into more snuggling doesn’t hurt, either.

  I try Dovie three times, alternating my cell and landline, only to find she’s blocked both. That puts a bit of a dent in my contentment. I knew that silence of hers sounded guilty.

  I call Max. “Dovie Donegan blocked me.”

  “Give her a day to think you’ve given up, then call her from Emily’s phone.”

  I already plan to, although I’m going to use a burner phone rather than Emily’s. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

  Max chuckles. “Other than my sparkling personality? Anyway, don’t sweat it. I should have a number for Laurel Radford by tomorrow. She’s not publicly listed, but I’ve found what I’m pretty sure is her firm. Once I get into their employment files, I’ll have a number for you.”

  “Is that legal?” I ask, letting amusement tinge my tone.

  “Who’s asking?” Max retorts.

  “Not me. Thanks for this.”

  “Any time. Thanks again for last night. It, uh, well, I’m not sure I’m ready to go all in, but it changed my thinking about some things.”

  Good. I stopped paying attention to Max when I hit topspace, but the scene itself was so good I came without any stimulation. Some of that had to come across, even to someone as vanilla as Max.

  “When you’re ready to dip a toe in, come to the playgroup I take Emily to. Meets every other Sunday. Good introduction into the lifestyle and there are some unattached littles you might want to get to know.”

  And meeting them might shift his sights from my little girl.

  “I’m not looking to be hooked up, man.”

  “I’m not trying to hook you up. Give it a try, meet some people, see what you think. Beats going to the clubs and trying to figure out if you have anything in common over drinks at a tenner a pop.”

  That draws a laugh out of Max. “That’s the truth. I fucking hate nightclubs. Kinda curious about your club now. I was talking to Crazy Daisy over breakfast this morning. She rates it.”

  “Good to hear and I’d be happy to have you as my guest. But so you’re prepared, Daisy’s a sadist. What she probably likes is that there are plenty of masochists among the submissives at my club who go for heavy play. If me spanking Emily is too much for you, heavy play is going to have you running for the hills.”

  Max clears his throat. “Actually, I’d kinda like to watch a spanking.”

  “We can do that. I don’t want you to watch a discipline scene yet, but I give Emily reward spankings pretty often. I’ll figure out when we can do one at the club and give you a call. Any night bad for you?”

  “Thursdays. Poker night.”

  “Yeah, that’s fine. If I have to go to DC to meet Laurel, we’ll probably stay over Thursday night. This week might be kind of tight, but I’ll let you know. Next playgroup is Sunday afternoon. Starts at fourteen hundred. Plan on coming, yeah?”

  I hear Max take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’re going to nag me like an old woman until I do, aren’t you?”

  “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

  “Prick,” Max grumbles.

  “I’ll take that as a yes. See you soon, mate.”

  I hang up with a smile, the small dent in my happiness hammered out, and go to find Emily.

  She’s not hard to find. I just follow her singing. Sounds like Pharrell William’s “Happy,” which suits my mood. She’s in the kitchen, topping up the cat’s water fountain and setting out dry food for him. I’ve told her to expect to stay at the club overnight since I have a management committee meeting in the morning. I’m pleased to see her taking care of her kitty before we go.

  I lean against the corner between my office and the kitchen and take in my gorgeous little girl. She’s already dressed for dinner. Since it’s a weekend, the club’s restaurant is open to the public. That means no scenes in the restaurant, and submissives have to wear clothes. I prefer weeknights, when there’s usually a scene or two to watch while I eat with Emily naked and kneeling at my feet.

  However, given how adorable she looks, there’s something to be said for going to the Trattoria on weekends. She’s picked her own outfit for tonight, but I can tell she’s dressed to please me. She’s playing to my fetish for seeing her in pink with a sleeveless shift in a soft rose that floats to midthigh, skimming her curves. As she bends over the cat’s bowl, I can see the contours of her ribs and spine through the back of the dress, which is a sheer panel from shoulders to waist. There’s a little lace collar at the demure neckline and more lace dripping off the hem. The lace bru
shes the tops of her white thigh-highs. She’s drawn her curls back and secured them at her nape with a big, floppy, white bow, the same way she wore her hair the first time we met. The memory of looking down at that bow as she knelt, watching as I jacked off for her, during our very first scene, sends a warm rush through me.

  “Ready, little girl?”

  “Oh! Sorry, Daddy. I didn’t realize you were there. Yes, I’m ready. I packed the things you told me to and put the bag on the bottom of the stairs. I brought your toy bag, too.”

  “That’s my good girl. Let’s see you, pretty baby.”

  She grins and twirls around so the dress flares around her thighs. The platinum around her throat and little diamond studs in her ears catch the light, but they’re nowhere near as bright as her eyes.

  “Gorgeous, little girl.” I open my arms; she runs to me. I give her a big hug and kiss the top of her head.

  “Mmm, you smell good, Daddy.”

  “What do I smell of?”

  “Sandalwood. That’s your aftershave. And starch. That’s your shirt. I like the smell of your shirts when they come back from the cleaner. And Daddy. That’s just you and that’s the best smell of all.”

  I chuckle and hug her tightly. “You smell pretty good yourself.”

  Emily doesn’t wear perfume, because I don’t like it on my little girl. She uses a coconut shampoo, which reminds me of the tanning oil smell of August afternoons at Coney Island. Underneath, there’s the soft, warm fragrance of her skin. My little girl smells like a beach party.

  “Any questions about tonight?”

  “Is there anything you want me to be during the scene?”

  Sweet, sweet submissive, who loves to role-play as much as I do. “Did you pack the ruffled nightgown and thigh-highs like I told you?”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Then you’ll be my pirate baby tonight.”

  She bounces a little on her toes, rubbing her soft breasts against my chest. “And Captain Daddy has to ravish my throat.”

  “Uh-huh. You can be cheeky and smart off and resist, but remember the rules.”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Good girl.” I kiss her forehead. “Did you pack a bedtime story?”

  She nods. “Where the Wild Things Are.”

  “Ah, are you my little wild thing tonight?”

  “Can I be? I packed my panda onesie.”

  I’m instantly hard. So hard it hurts. I came less than an hour ago, rocking inside Emily as I made love to her, slow and sweet, but her pink onesie, with the little bottom flap that I can fuck her through, turns me on like nothing else.

  “Yes, little girl. You’ll be my pirate captive for the scene and my panda baby for bed.” I rub my nose against hers. “Daddy’s wild about you, sweetie.”

  “Wild about you, too, Daddy.”

  Before I bend my little wild thing over the kitchen counter and make us very late for dinner, I hustle her out the door.

  * * *

  Bright eyes holding mine, Emily wiggles in her seat as I dip my pinkie in her tea. Once I’m satisfied the liquid’s cool enough for my little girl, I hand her the cup.

  “Thank you, Daddy,” she says before she takes a sip. “Ta very much.”

  My mouth twitches. She’s being super-polite, as she has been all through dinner. Saving up all her cheekiness for the scene, no doubt.

  “Someone’s on her best behavior,” Javier drawls from across the table, before sipping from his own cup.

  “Someone was raised right,” Maude says from my right. “Emily, show Master Barn-Manners here how to hold a teacup properly.”

  With a devilish gleam in her eyes, Emily demonstrates, holding her teacup daintily by the handle, her pinkie finger raised.

  “Unmanly,” Javier scoffs. “The only reason to stick my little finger out like that is to put it up a subbie’s bottom.”

  Maude and I chuckle, and Emily’s cheeks flush a shade to match her dress.

  “I dread to think of where your pinkie has been,” Maude says, waving her hand at him.

  She can talk. Her fingers have been up just as many behinds.

  Javier evidently has the same thought. “Glass houses, Maude. Anyway, stop changing the subject. You haven’t answered me. How are you voting?”

  They go back to the quasi argument they were having before the tea and coffee arrived. They’re bickering over one of the proposals before the committee tomorrow. I’m not invested in that vote, which is on the club offering regular classes in whip technique. I’m generally for the club offering lessons of whatever kind because I think that having more skilled tops can only be a good thing. But I appreciate the liability concerns the club’s lawyer, Franco, has raised, which Maude shares. Javier is trying to talk her around. If he does, I’ll vote with them as a block, the way I usually do. If they can’t agree, I’ll abstain from the vote. It’s not important enough to annoy either of them, particularly not when there’s a vote tomorrow that I’m very invested in: transferring Sante’s membership and Rachel’s employment to our sister club in New Jersey. I’m confident I have enough votes, but the last thing I want to do is alienate either of the Doms at the table.

  Maude sweeps her carefully curled gray hair off her forehead with her finger, which I know from playing poker with her is one of her tells. She’s getting annoyed.

  “Let’s table this until the morning,” I suggest. “I want to add something to tomorrow’s agenda.”

  “Bit last minute, dear,” Maude says.

  “Well, I’m hoping it will be uncontroversial. Didn’t we used to have theme nights on a Monday? Kind of a pick-me-up after the weekend? What happened to those?”

  “Gill left and Felix became Master of Festivals,” Maude answers with the authority of someone who knows every detail of the club’s history for the last hundred years. “He prefers the traditional Roman calendar.”

  “I’m not arguing with the current calendar. I like the festival schedule. But I’m thinking Monday theme nights are a tradition we should resurrect. I’ll even volunteer to organize them. I think we’ll start by opening the Kennels for some kitty and puppy play.” I wink at my kinky, ninja puppy, who looks both surprised and delighted. Did she think I forgot?

  Maude watches our exchange with a smile. “Does this mean you’re interested in getting involved at an organizational level again? Master of Fur is open, coincidentally.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t want a formal title, or to step on any toes. But, yeah, it’s time I got more involved.”

  Suddenly there are big grins all around the table.

  “What?”

  Javier holds up his hands. “You’ve been missed.”

  I lift my eyebrow at Maude. She echoes Javier’s placating gesture and smiles into her coffee cup. I turn my head to look at my little girl. “Comment from the peanut gallery?”

  “No, Daddy.” She blinks the big eyes at me innocently. “Just that lots of people seem happy to have you back.”

  “Two whole people, little girl.”

  Maude harrumphs.

  “I’m confident when you suggest this tomorrow in committee that more than just the two of us will show their appreciation, Logan,” Javier says. He sits back from the table and shoots the cuffs on his gray-pinstripe Huntsman suit. Bastard’s way too well-dressed. “Even if this is as far as your involvement goes.”

  Here it comes. He’s such a manipulator. “Where else is my involvement needed, in your opinion?”

  Javier slants his eyes at Maude.

  “The house submissives are in a shameful state,” Maude says, tapping her manicured nails on her coffee cup. “I know Ryan’s a friend, but he should step down. Between Tania and the girls, he’s hardly ever here. He doesn’t have enough contact to know what they need, nor the time to oversee them.”

  I rub my chin. Lucy looking for a top outside the club suggests the house subs aren’t getting what they need. But maybe she’s an isolated case. And Ryan is a friend.

>   “I’ll have a word with him, but no more than that. I’m not up to training anyone, and if you think Ryan’s distracted?”

  I tip my head at the source of all distraction, who gives me a shy grin.

  “Most of the current subs don’t need intensive training,” Maude says. “Sure, the two newest ones could use some, but there are other members who can do that. What they really need is managing. Someone who can make sure they’re getting what they need. Someone to advocate for them in committee. And someone objective enough to make the ones who don’t belong here leave.”

  I know what she’s getting at. Rachel isn’t the first sub I’ve shown the door; not every individual fits into every group.

  “I’ll talk to Ry about that, too. He’ll probably be fine with a push in the right direction. He’s a good man, and a good Dom.”

  Another grumble from Maude, but she doesn’t argue.

  “Ryan’s doing double-duty already,” Javier says. “Since he stepped in as Master of Training without giving up Master of the Hunt.”

  What part of I don’t want a title did Javier miss? And Ryan took on two roles so he’d be eligible for a deep discount on his membership dues. Two kids and another on the way, on a single income, even what Ryan makes in his veterinary practice, doesn’t leave a lot left over for entertainment. “What about getting one of the newer members to assist him?”

  “Such as?” Javier asks. He’s got his superior smirk on, so either he already knows none of the newer members are up to the task or he’s setting me up some other way. Bastard.

  “What about Cole? He’s been a member as long as I have and he’s certainly here plenty now that his divorce is final.”

  Maude scoffs. “That fluff? He wouldn’t know what to do with a whip.”

  “Essential equipment for Master of Training.” Javier just has to add his two pence.

  They’re both full of shit. I never used a whip on any of the house subs when I was Master of Training.

  “Naz? Theo?” I suggest.